


Monachopsis

by QWERTYouAndMe



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Youtubers, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Anti - Freeform, Anti is a little shit, Dark, Dark and Anti kill people, Darkiplier - Freeform, Group Therapy, Jack is cold, Killing, M/M, Mark and Jack are Dark and Anti, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Therapy, Watchverse, antisepticeye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 14,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11700054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QWERTYouAndMe/pseuds/QWERTYouAndMe
Summary: Monachopsis: the subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.-He put on a probably very unconvincing smile and approached her, running a hand through his hair."I'd like to check myself in."-In a world where everyone has a good side and a bad side; the real them, and a version of them with different urges, bad urges. Some people have some trouble controlling their other sides, which is why so many centres have been set up to help people handle them.Mark feels he has to be in one of these centres.





	1. Check-in

**Author's Note:**

> uh  
> so this happened

The building was high and looked like something out of a creepy cartoon. An amalgamation of shapes, rooms hanging off edges dangerously. If Mark didn't know what was inside, he'd have thought this building was pretty cool. As it stood, he stared at the wrought-iron gates with a knot of fear slowly building up in his stomach. He couldn't turn back after he stepped inside those gates, and he couldn't  _not_ go inside. 

He looked at his hands. They still felt dirty. Never again. That's why he was here. 

With an unsteady hand, he unbolted the gates and shuffled inside. Had he been less nervous, he'd have looked at the gardens; small groups of pretty flowers huddled alongside the path, a large lawn rolled out to his left. He didn't take any of it in, though, just walked as if on autopilot towards the front door. When he pushed it open, a little bell tinkled and a lady with mousy brown hair and glossy pink lips looked up from behind the front desk. He put on a probably very unconvincing smile and approached her, running a hand through his hair. 

"I'd like to check myself in."

"Struggling with your negative, honey?"

Mark had never heard it be called that before, but he nodded nonetheless. The woman took him into a back room, he signed forms and filled out papers. He'd sign in in two days, bring clothes and belongings, get assigned a room and probably a roommate. He just hoped he didn't lose control again in the next two days.

* * *

 

"Go just up those stairs, then all the way down the corridor. The door should be unlocked, he knows you're coming."

Mark nodded, swallowing thickly. Everything about this place seemed unnatural; the floors were too shiny, everything was _too_ in its place. The whole place smelled of cheap pine air freshener and cooking food. As he scaled the flights of stairs, his mind wandered. What was his roommate going to be like? Unstable, like him. Right? Surely it was dangerous to keep people with uncontrollable negatives all in one place.

He passed metal doors with no windows and shuddered. Solitary confinement? Did they try and shock the bad out of you? Had he just signed himself up for torture? He didn't know what he'd gotten himself into: he just knew he couldn't deal with his other side like normal people did. Not after what he'd done.

Not after what he'd done.

He was standing in front of the door. 

He could do this. He could open this door. It was just a door. What was the worst that could be behind it? He could do it. Just open the door.

He didn't have to.

Before him stood a young man who looked about his age. He was shorter than Mark, but only by a little, and his eyes, blue and piercing, looked back into Mark's with an intensity that made him intimidated.

"Hey! You must be Mark, right?"

Good god, that accent. His roommate was very, very Irish. That was intimidating too. Mark just nodded, thinking this whole situation over. He looked up properly for the first time, and that was when he noticed the hair. Just a lock, peeking out from under the brim of a beanie. Bright green. Could he get any more disconcerting?

"I'm Jack," said his roommate, who now had a name, smiling. "Come on inside, I don't bite."

Jack certainly looked like he did. His smile was sharp-toothed and shiny, as if he polished it specifically to scare. Mark tried to avoid looking at him as he piled clothes into drawers, getting used to the room he'd be staying in for... however long. As long as it took. 

After a long while of silence, Jack spoke again. 

"What are you in for?"

"I checked myself in," Mark offered, as if that answered Jack's question. 

"Damn, why'd you do that?" Mark just shrugged. "Did you hurt someone? Or yourself?"

Mark shook his head, looking at his hands as they folded a t-shirt. 

"Damn. Kill someone?"

Mark sighed. "No."

"What'd you do?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

A pause. "Alright, man, if you say so."

* * *

 

Turns out Jack was friendlier than Mark had thought at first. 

Mark had escaped into the bathroom to seriously rethink his decisions and entire life path and almost-but-not-quite cry. Jack had been waiting once he'd emerged again, concern etched onto his face.

"Hey, you don't have to be scared of me, you know. I'm not as bad as my records here might make me out to be." 

Mark had sucked in a deep breath, letting it out with a loud sigh. 

"I get it. You're nervous about being here for the first time. Right?"

"Yeah, kinda."

Jack chuckled. "We're not as crazy as you think. They know how to spot your negative taking over and stop it. You're gonna be okay."

Mark didn't believe him, but nodded anyway. 

As he laid in the new and unfamiliar bed that night trying to force himself to sleep one thing Jack had said kept echoing through his mind. 

'They know how to spot your negative taking over and stop it.'

Was that what had happened? His negative took over. 

He'd never have done what he did if it wasn't for the negative. 

He said it over and over in his head as he fell asleep to convince himself it was true. 


	2. She Had It Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooo the feedback on this was insane! Thank you all sm!  
> (lets just pretend they do boring normal people jobs)  
> reference to fun killing times here so tread with caution if that affects you!  
> If anyone can figure out the ~murder victim~ (God i'm lame) before I reveal it I'll give you virtual cookies

Mark had lived a normal life. 

He'd had his share of ups and downs, but so did everyone. Everyone exchanged a head nod with death in passing; everyone fell on hard times financially; everyone struggled. He was living a good life; he had good friends, good options for potential significant others if he wanted that sort of thing, even a good dog. He lived in a good place, he enjoyed his job. Things were going okay. 

He didn't remember much of the day it happened. He just remembered his head hurting, going to bed, and then waking up with blood on his hands. No matter how many times he tried to clean them, they still felt dirty. Death stains the skin; a keen eye can spot it on the living. 

The first night at the centre had been many things, but mostly cold. He'd had to ask where he could find another blanket to go atop his comforter in the middle of the night so he'd stop getting goosebumps. When he'd slipped back into the room, blanket clutched in chilly hand, Jack was sat up, awake. He looked at Mark through confused and bleary eyes, hair - duller green in the half light - stuck up on one side. 

"What's got you up?" He asked, accent thick with sleep. God, still intimidating. Mark wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and sat up in bed. 

"Aren't you cold?"

Jack just shook his head, cowlicks swaying with the movement. "Nah. You get used to it."

There was a pause. "How long have you been here?" Mark guessed a long time; Jack talked about this place with the confidence of a guy who's already been to jail and isn't afraid of it anymore, that 'I served my nickel, you come and take me!' confidence. 

At his question, Jack just shrugged. "A while. Coming up to ten months now."

"Not that long."

"It is, for a control centre. You don't tend to stay for that long. Mine's just... He's a feisty little bugger." That made them both laugh, then Mark swallowed bitterness. There was cold silence for a while. 

"You never told me why you're here," Jack murmured after a while, and Mark scoffed quietly. "Did you kill someone? Did he have it coming?"

Mark bristled. "No. No, she didn't."

* * *

 

People were scary. 

Not just in a, 'All of these people have probably done bad things and been powerless to stop themselves,' kind of way, but also in a 'These people have some  _stories_ , man. So many people end up sucking dick for meth.' kind of way. 

The word therapy left an odd taste in Mark's mouth. It made him think of different things; kids with past trauma lying on leather couches and gushing about their dads. But therapy here was different. Here, therapy was a circle of wooden chairs and a pitcher of watered-down fruit juice; it was people telling warm stories and old jokes.

He didn't contribute much in his first session, just listened and watched Jack tell a story from across the circle, gesticulating so wildly he was in danger of hitting someone. As a fresh body, he was spotted easily, bright red hair probably not much helping him with blending in. He held conversations after, not all ones he wanted to have, and then immediately fled to the safety of the only person he knew as soon as he could. 

"How was therapy?" Jack asked with a smirk. Mark rolled his eyes.

"Weird. You seriously go to those every other day?"

Jack just nodded, "It's nice, really. Listening to people, talking to people. You got to meet new people, too."

"Hm. That wasn't the highlight of my day."

"It wasn't?"

"Somebody asked me if I kept my stained clothes."

There was quiet.

"Well, did you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments will be huuuuuugely appreciated! i challenge you to draw a cat down there v v v :)


	3. WATCH

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on vacation tomorrow so like idk if i'll manage to update this friday or next tuesday, but i'm back in black for sure on August 26th!  
> As promised, virtual cookies for LoyalSins, you figured me out.

One thing Mark could never shake about this place was how different looking the different sections of it were. The outside was stone, worn and weathered from years of standing, but the reception and first few rooms and corridors were white, crisp, clean - reminiscent of a hospital. As you travelled up the building the walls became a soft yellow, and posters hung lazily on walls. 

There was one, in particular, too-bright orange with blocks of white text, that caught Mark's eye. He took the time to read one once, despite how his eyes disagreed with the bright orange at first. 

' _Negatives can be tricky things to spot as they don't follow a pattern. They can spring from nowhere and be very dangerous. **WATCH** for these five signs of a negative takeover._

_**Warmth:** Is the person's body temperature raised? Are they complaining of being too hot, or are they not feeling cold when everyone else is?_

 

_**Appearance** : Has the person's appearance has changed suddenly?Have things such as eye or hair colour, skin tone, freckles or moles changed?_

 

_**Twitch** : Has the person developed a twitch or tick? Have they adopted facial twitches, audible ticks, or twitches in other parts of the body such as hands, arms and legs?_

 

_**Communication** : Is the person communicating differently? Has their accent changed, are they using different mannerisms to speak? Have they started using spoonerisms at random times, but not recalling it?_

 

_**Heart:** Has the person had a sudden change of heart? Are they suddenly cruel when they were not before? Have they started having thoughts of violence or murder? Do they tease or taunt?_

 

_If you or a loved one is showing three or more of these symptoms, contact a professional or negative control centre for options on what to do next.'_

 

No sooner had he finished reading the poster than two hands grabbed his shoulders and he started. He turned around, bracing himself on the wall. In front of him, Jack laughed raucously, his green hair bouncing with his laughter and catching the light. 

* * *

"Was it your mother?"

 

Mark sighed, hint of a smile playing on his lips. "No, it wasn't."

 

"Did you have a girlfriend?"

 

"I've had girlfriends, but I've never killed one."

 

Jack thought for a second. "Your sister!"

 

Mark just shook his head, pulling his blanket closer around himself.

 

"Please tell me? I'll beg like a puppy."

 

Mark recoiled a bit at that, but hoped it didn't show. "No, last time I had a puppy it didn't end well."

 

"You had a- did you kill your dog?"

 

Silence.

 

Mark grit his teeth.

 

He hadn't meant to, he really hadn't. He loved his dog, right up until the day she died. And he felt horrible, really he did, he felt like a monster. It wasn't the whole reason he'd checked himself in; he'd hurt somebody,  a friend, but not bad enough to land them in the hospital or anything. He couldn't stop feeling terrible about it. He loved Chica, and he cared about his friends, and he was _scared_. He was scared of himself.

 

And _that_ was why he was here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm thinking of adding ethan and/or tyler into this? what do you guys think? I'd really like to see what i can do with their characters and im a slut for tythan so  
> a spoonerism, btw, is when you change the first letters of words around, like saying 'bight lulb' instead of light bulb, or fives and norks instead of knives and forks :)


	4. Puzzle Cube

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOBODY SAID THEY DIDNT WANT ETHAN AND TYLER SO HERE THEY ARE  
> ikik mark's hair isn't red anymore but like it and its my fic so he has red hair in this are we all settled now ok good  
> (also hi kylie i know you're reading this)

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

That little click was driving Mark insane. He could hear it from his seat at breakfast, and all throughout the day, he kept hearing it in passing. He was sure he was going insane, because he had no idea where it was coming from. It wasn't until after therapy, during which someone started a conversation about whatever the hell 'booty juice' was, that he found the source of the sound. 

Somehow, he was shorter than Mark. And, somehow, Mark had never noticed him before. 

In his restless hands, a small Rubik's cube.

He stood like he was scared of being punched; defensive and quite shy. His face was marked with acne, but his eyes seemed genuine and his mouth always ready to turn up into a smile. And his hair - oh, it rivalled Jack's in brightness, but it was blue, and fluffier where Jack's was smooth. 

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

"You've been looking at me for ten minutes now." 

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

"I'm trying to figure out if I should be scared of you or not."

_Click._

_Click._

_Silence._

"I'm Ethan."

Mark looked at the hand offered to him with unease. He wasn't a hand shaker.

"Mark." He turned Ethan's unsteady hand over and high-fived him gently. The smaller boy's face broke into a smile.

"I like your hair," He mumbled, face turning a little pink. Mark grinned, running a hand through his red mop of hair.

"I like yours too." They walked away from the main room they used for therapy quietly, Mark's full attention focused on reviving the conversation with a possible new- friend? Acquaintance? Person to know he existed?

"How come I've never seen you around before?" Ethan asked after a short stretch of silence. Mark shrugged. 

"I've only been here a few days."

"That explains a lot. Is it helping you here?"

Ethan's hands were fast at work with his puzzle cube again, but the noise of other people around them drowned out the clicks. Mark watched his hands move for a second, contemplating his question before shrugging. "I feel safer."

"Safer is better than more dangerous."

Mark just nodded, swallowing a bitter taste. He didn't like talking about being here. It made him uneasy.

* * *

 

At some point, they filed into the lunch room. Mark sat himself down next to Ethan, because he couldn't find Jack, and watched him match up colours.

A heavy hand fell suddenly onto Ethan's shoulder. He started, but didn't seem to need to look up from his cube to find out who it was. 

"Hey, Tyler."

A faceless 'Tyler' uttered a greeting back to Ethan, and Mark stayed looking straight ahead. He didn't want to interrupt people who already knew and liked each other.

"This is Mark," One of Ethan's hands raised from his cube, which he seemed to be pouring a lot of attention into, to wave in Mark's direction. He suddenly wished he had something to fiddle with of his own. New people didn't usually make him anxious, but these people did.

"Newbie, huh?"

Ethan nodded, looking up at last. He proudly held out the Rubik's cube behind him in faceless Tyler's general direction; he'd done the orange side. Tyler clapped a few times, before cuffing Ethan's shoulder softly. 

"I'm so sorry, I should introduce myself." Faceless Tyler, who now had a face, turned to Mark and held out a hand. "Tyler."

Mark did the exact same thing in turning it over and slapping it, trying to smile despite his slight nerves. "Mark. Nice to meet you."

Tyler laughed at his high-five, smiling softly as Mark spoke. "I'd say I see you've met Ethan, but it looks like you've-"

_Crash!_

Silence. 

Long, accusing silence. Mark stood up to see what had happened.

Jack stood, alone, black shirt half tucked into black jeans, expression blank and vacant. His fingers, hanging limply at his side, twitched a little.

There was a glass shattered on the floor. Water was slowly starting to spread out across the linoleum. 

Everybody was staring at it. Even Ethan had abandoned his cube on the table to look. 

Why was it so quiet? What was so wrong? He'd just dropped a glass, right? 

He looked nervous, like he'd just been found guilty of a crime. 

His hand, at his side, jerked a little sparadically. He shoved it in his pocket. 

A young lady came with a mop and dustpan. 

The noise resumed. 

* * *

 

Mark was sure he was seeing things. Maybe it was just the light. He hoped it was. Because if it wasn't he was going crazy.

Jack's eyes were blue. He remembered looking at them and thinking about how blue they were. They were both blue, weren't they?

In the midst of his intimidation, did he somehow miss his roommate's heterochromia? Or was he imagining things, and Jack had this green eye all along?

He was absolutely sure he was going crazy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i slaved to connect to wifi to post this yall, pls be thankful and comment some lovely things :3


	5. Jack's Takeover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS. ABOUT. TO GO. TF. DOWN.  
> (i was a bit extra with this chapter so if the glith text doesn't show up right let me know?)  
> V small vomit warning

Mark woke up to noise. Lots of noise all at once; unpredictable and overlapping and making his head hurt. It took a moment, in his still half-asleep state, for him to place it all. 

Someone rapped insistently on the door, which, he noticed, was locked from the inside. The lock was only a handle you'd turn one way or the other, like on a bathroom stall. Still, the person on the other side knocked like it was a matter of life and death. 

From a speaker system he'd never seen before; probably for some intercom or other, came a harsh voice repeating a string of numbers, ' _Zero zero one, two eleven! Zero zero one, two eleven! Zero zero one, two eleven!_ '

Two eleven was the room number, he remembered repeating it like a mantra in his head so he didn't get lost. He dreaded to think what zero zero one meant.

He looked, but Jack was nowhere to be found. The bathroom door was closed and presumably locked, and if Mark listened very closely he could hear faint mumbling, occasionally interrupted by violent-sounding retches. 

In his head, the rules from the poster ran over and over.

**_W.A.T.C.H._ **

_Zero zero one, two eleven!_

Knock. 

Knock.

Knock.

 ** _W.A.T.C.H._** _Zero zero one, two eleven!_ Knock. **_W.A.T_** Knock.  _Two eleven!_ ** _W.A.T.C.H._** _Zero..._ Knock, knock, knock, knock!  _ **W.A.T.C.H**_. _Zero, zero one!_ Knockknockknock!  _Two eleven!_ ** _W.A.T.C.H._** knockknock! ** _W.A.T.C.H.W.A.T.C.H._** _Zero zero one!_ ** _WATCH_ _WATCH W A T C H_** Knock! _Zero_ ** _WARMTH_ _APPEARANCE TWITCH COMMUNICATION HEART_** _Two eleven!_ ** _WARMTH_** Knockknockknock! ** _APPEARANCE TWITCH TWITCH TWITCH_** _One, two eleven!_ ** _COMMUNICATION_ _HEART WARMTH WARMTHWARMTH W A R M T H A P P E A R A N C E TWITCH TWITCH TWITCH-_**

The realisation hit him like a train.

* * *

 

In a blind panic, he stood up and made for the door, unlocking it and flinging it open. 

A lady in too-white clothes stood before him. Her lips were moving but he couldn't hear what she was saying. 

"He's locked in the bathroom," Mark whispered, though maybe he was yelling. The lady pushed past him and three more people seemed to follow her from nowhere. 

That wasn't Jack in there.

_That wasn't jack in there at all._

Had he been talking to Jack's negative the whole time and not known it? 

Everything was there. He never had an extra blanket, his hair always looked a different colour, and his eye! Mark backed against the wall, fear nestling comfortably in his chest. He hadn't spotted it. What if Jack's negative had hurt him? Or someone else? What then? What was going to happen to him now?

The speaker system had stopped blaring. At the bathroom door, people's mouths formed words. It sounded like Mark was underwater. 

_That wasn't Jack in there._

Someone produced a key, jamming it into a keyhole Mark didn't even know existed and unlocking the door. Two people stormed into the room and the smell- oh God, if God even existed, the smell- hit Mark in the face. He could've vomited, really he could've. But he didn't, he kept his composure, and resurfaced from under the water.

Two men had Jack held between them, an arm each. Vomit stained the front of his shirt and some of his jeans, dripping off his chin in a way that made Mark have to turn away.

Jack was talking, hair wild about his face and his eyes - one blue, one green and very bloodshot - were wild and leaking tears. 

 _"I̸̝̓̓_ ̴̭a̴̖̱̒m̶̡͝ ̴̭̅͑i̶̦̚͠n̷͚̜͂́ ̴͎͠c̵͈͑o̷̺͒n̷͓̱̾t̸͎̭͑̋r̵̗̈̇ò̴̦l̸̢̽̓ ̴͚̬͊͝n̷̟̘̒͑o̵͍̭͆w̶̨͎̌̂!" He hissed, pulling against the restraints on his arms. Someone was securing a band to his upper arm, like a hospital bracelet. His voice was high and strained, like he was fighting tears. Mark stayed back against the wall. "Ĩ̵̼̬̑'̴̭̾̑m̵̟͉̂ ̸̟͐t̶̡͉̿̄i̵̠̥̚r̶̛̞̻̆ė̴͚͠d̸̮̦͗̂ ̸͈̕ỏ̷͎͍̌f̵̘̕ ̵̢͉͆̉p̸͍͛l̴̞͚̍͠a̷̝̰y̵̤͕͆̏i̴̗̓n̷͈͆̊g̴̝͝ͅ ̵̞̼͒̕p̸̗̬͐r̷̢̙̓̕e̷̟̻͌̓t̸̡̒̄e̴̲͗n̷͉̈́͜d̸͓̹͝!̶͓͍̃̽ ̴͔̓̈S̷̠̏͛i̸̳̇c̷̟̲͝k̶̦̱̓̽ ̸͍̅o̵̧̖͝f̴̧̢͆ ̸̫͔̈į̸̓t̷͇̖̎͘!̵̺̭̄̊ Y̶̖̌o̴͖̕ụ̶͐ ̶̥͋t̶̢͉͛̓h̸̫̗͒͝o̶̧͎͌͆u̵̠͗g̷͖̓̿ͅĥ̶̟͠t̴̲̺̒͘ ̴̭̭͌͠ÿ̶̗̗́ȏ̸̝̋u̵̱̙̽ ̵͚̓h̴̙͎͆̃ä̷̦̥́d̶̪̈́ͅ ̶̠̔̐h̶̩́̃ͅī̶̡m̵̤̞̋ ̷̣͘b̴̦̒á̴͔̆c̶̢̄k̵͉̾͒!̵͇̈́͠ ̷̖͓Ĩ̴͖ ̶̡͙̍̿k̵̥̍̚ë̸̛͖́p̵̙͗̏t̸͍͈̑ ̶̢̪̇c̸͙̆o̵̝̓n̸̘̥͆t̴̻̦̾̚r̴̯͗̇ô̴̦̝l̶̰̑,̸͖̥̀̕ ̷͎̈́͜a̷͔͑l̴̗͐͂l̵̰̺͋ ̸͙͑̈́t̴̹̪̏h̶͍̝̾͝i̷̦͔̿s̶̨̫͐ ̶̟̂̓t̵̛͍i̶̟̝̍m̶͍̒ẻ̴̗̯.̷̝̥̕ N̶̙͐̋o̵̢̡t̶̛̜̜h̴̯̽i̷̺͛n̷͈̆g̴̯̾͆ ̴̝̾g̵̺͂e̷͙͓͠t̷̘̥̉͗s̸̱͝ ̶͔̂̚r̴̹̲̐͂i̷̧͌͆d̶͇̼͌̌ ̸̢̱̇͐ǒ̵̧̭f̴̺̃ ̸͈̦̂m̵̬̮̐e̸̙͐.̵̞̌̿ ̵̝̣̾Ḩ̵͕̕o̸͍̎w̸̨̝̃͗ ̴̨͓̆́ä̴̺́ṋ̷̢̄y̴̢͠ ̴͇̈́̕t̶̠̏̍ǐ̵̝̤m̸̨̾̑e̴̘͑s̶͛ͅ ̸͓͔̀͐m̵̹̂u̶̞̫̅s̷̬̟̔ṱ̴̺̕ ̶͕̫̅w̶̘͘e̷̛̹̯ ̸̺̂̔g̶̩̗͛̒ǒ̵̹͓ ̶̖̎͋ţ̷̍h̸͓̐̅r̷̩͂o̸͚̓͒ͅu̶̞͕̓g̷̰̬̏ȟ̶͕͝ ̸̡͝t̷͕͚̾h̸̲̙̓i̵̼̯̓͝ṡ̷̝͇?̴͉͂ ̸̹̈́A̵̲̒g̵̡̯̐͘a̶̛̖̺̍i̶̧̭̽̈n̵̢̰̋ ̸̪̾a̷̛̛̘̙ṇ̶̠̈d̴̬̂ ̴͇͒̓ă̶̟͘g̷̲͈̒a̷̺̅͝i̶͔̹̅n̵̼̎͝.̶̬̟̃.̵̛͙͙.̸̛͓͜ ̶̡̛͐͜ ** _f̵͚̌̽ǘ̴̲̀ć̵̠͔͝k̴̳̣̈̂ĩ̵̞̇ņ̷̏̈g̴̨̠̋ ̴̛̤͉̈́c̸̜̏i̶̮̿̈́ř̴̗͗c̸͕̟̄̈ḷ̶̤̐e̵͕̟̓s̴̻̑̉!̶̥̈́_** ̸̪̕"

And Mark was back under the water.

He stared at Jack as they took him away, gorge rising steadily. Some more people came in and cleaned up the bathroom, and then finally someone noticed Mark.

He was taken to a little room with two couches and a coffee table. He was offered coffee - chose tea. He wasn't sure how long he was in there for, but Ethan came in at one point and they sat together in quiet. Mark guessed he was Jack's friend. 

He had no idea what he'd just witnessed. And he was utterly terrified.


	6. Waking Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is gonna be short because i'm ill and tired but it's an update here u guys go

Mark wasn't used to such complete and utter silence. It was so quiet after that day; nobody talked. Word spread around quick that Jack had a takeover; apparently, he wasn't a stranger to his own negative.

The atmosphere after that day was spiky, tense. Apparently, it was always that way.

The **WATCH** posters increased in frequency, and people were wary of others. Everyone was scared; everyone was tense - nobody knew where the next takeover would come from. Who would slip next? They often came in groups of three or four, one negative sparking another's appearance. 

Every clink of cutlery against plates sent shivers down spines. Nobody spoke. Fear crept deep into hearts and minds; uncertainty twisted friendships. There wasn't a hint of trust left.

Mark felt like he knew nothing.

Was it like this every time? Why wasn't it like this when new people came in?

Nobody would answer his questions, but maybe it was just because he was too scared to ask. 

* * *

 

Mark lay awake at night with his extra blanket, unable to sleep. 

He was used to hearing Jack across the room; he was used to his breathing and his movements and the creak of his bed. Now the silence was deafening. The smallest of noises made him jump. 

The pipes in the bathroom gurgled every six minutes like clockwork. He could hear someone talking. The tick of the clock bored a hole in his skull.

Eventually he must have drifted off, because the next thing he knew he was dreaming. 

Mark was no stranger to nightmares, they weren't that uncommon. The worst ones were the ones he couldn't wake up from: the ones where his friends or loved ones were being hurt right in front of him and he couldn't do anything except scream and cry and hope it was a dream. They woke him up in a cold sweat, had him gasping for air and hugging his knees to his chest and telling himself it was okay. 

When he'd lived at home, before everything had happened, he knew the exact way to make himself feel better after a dream like that. Doggo cuddles and some soft music and he was right as rain again. 

He stared bitterly at himself under the fluorescent bathroom lighting as he splashed some cold water on his face. There were no Chica cuddles this time, because there was no Chica.

As long as he lived he'd never stop feeling guilty.


	7. Contagious Illness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I READ THE LOVELY DOUBLEX'S FIC LIBEROSIS, INSPIRED BY AND BETTER WRITTEN THAN THIS ONE, AND I GOT A BURST OF INSPIRATION SO HERE'S A LIL SOMETHING FOCUSING ON MY SON ETHAN

Takeovers spread like a sickness. 

They didn't just flit from person to person, oh no. They took out whole friendship groups at a time. They say you become like the five people you hang around most, and if one of those five people is a functional negative, the chances are your own will want to join in the fun.

Ethan remembered this with dread as he lay curled in on himself on an empty mattress. 

His stomach churned and flipped and his head pounded. As desperately as he tried to convince himself he was just getting sick, he knew it wasn't true. The blanket was already on the floor. Maybe it'd only be minor.

While Jack was more one to hold back his negative, which only resulted in his takeovers being big and dangerous - not only to himself, but to others - Ethan was taught ever since he started struggling to keep his negative under control when he was ten that one night of snapping pencils and breaking a glass is better than three days of tearing at your own hair and punching walls till your knuckles bleed. Maybe tonight he'd just have to snap a pencil. 

Tyler was a gentle giant. Ethan wasn't sure how he'd define their relationship but at this point it was beyond negative-control-center-grade 'friendship'. He was kind and caring and soft, but he was so scary and unpredictable. Rumor had it, and hopefully, it _was_ just a rumor, that he had some trouble waiting for him after the center. Whatever 'trouble' meant. Some people said a sentence. Some people said a fight.Some people, though they were probably wrong, said a gun to the head from the leader of a gang. 

But he just didn't seem like it. He was so nice and genuine, and he'd only had one takeover while Ethan had been at the center. Granted, it lasted six days, which was altogether too long for a regular takeover, but maybe he just needed a cool-down period. Everyone needed those. 

As far as Ethan was concerned, Tyler was no more dangerous to him than anyone else was. maybe he surrounded himself with scary people on purpose. He didn't know. 

Time passed. Ethan still lay on his side, curled into himself, feeling sick and utterly sorry for himself. The door opened. Tyler had this way of being unusually silent; it was odd how a person so big could move so quietly. The telltale creak of his bed told Ethan that he'd sat down, still silent. 

Ethan knew he shouldn't do this. 

He got up and crossed the room, stepping over his discarded blankets on the floor. Tyler held out an arm, as Tyler often did, and Ethan sank into his hold. They were both silent, neither of them moving except for Tyler's hand carding through Ethan's hair. Occasionally, his fingers grazed the younger man's forehead and he tensed a little.  

"You're warm," he murmured, hand stopping in Ethan's hair and moving to touch his forehead properly. The same hand moved to his cheek, then the side of his neck. Ethan nodded grimly. Neither of them mentioned the dark circles around his eyes, nor the way his cheeks flushed more than usual, or how his hands shook a little and his voice wavered. Tyler lay down, bringing Ethan with him, and they lay together in terrified silence. Ethan fell asleep to the steady rhythm of Tyler's calming hand up and down his back. They both knew they shouldn't do this.

When Tyler woke up, all traces of Ethan, and his impending takeover, were gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mega shout outs to DoubleX for inspiring me to write this, it's a big ol copycat move on my part but i love ethan so much and i couldn't resist


	8. Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks. not a long one this time - im not in the best place mentally rn and i hate making updates bad for you guys. i'm really sorry if i miss updates guys, i'm probably just being dumb but there you go

After three days of quiet, the noise came back. Mark didn't know what was coming until it came; Jack came back - woke up in his bed opposite Mark one morning but had no idea what was happening.

Mark didn't remember much from his takeover, which wasn't a strange thing, and apparently, Jack didn't either. 

"You're back!"

Jack sat up slowly, blinking heavily and looking at Mark with confusion. "I'm sorry - I don't think we've met."

In the moment, Mark was taken aback, but introduced himself, and a note of recognition seemed to register on Jack's face. 

"Right - of course, sorry, I'm a little-"

"Can't remember anything from the last few days?"

Thankfully, Jack chuckled, nodding and pulling his comforter up a little. "Yeah, nothing at all. I'm really sorry you had to see me like that, I swear I'm not usually that mean."

Mark chuckled, finding himself to be much more confident talking to this version of Jack. "It's okay, man, I get it."

Jack was still pulling at his comforter.

"You cold?" 

"Of course I'm cold, it's freezin' in here."

Yep, this was Jack.


	9. Quiet Tyler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes yes i knooow it's not mark and jack BUT i reread Liberosis by the lovely DoubleX and started thinking about Tyler and people talking to their negatives so here we are  
> if you ever get inspired to write in this trope, please do! put it in the tag 'watchverse' and i'll likely read it and sing your praises

If you wore a lot of black as a teenager, mostly kept to yourself and didn't really talk much, you were seen as either a goth or, more commonly, what people referred to as a talker.

Talker was a slang term used to describe people who talked to their own negatives. Mostly in their heads, but sometimes they'd do it aloud. Only if they were really deep into it. Talking to your own negative took a lot of power; you had to go inside yourself and find them, and you risked a high-grade, unexpected takeover, which was dangerous to you and to others. A lot of people found that once they started it was hard to stop because their negative kept hounding them in their head and they couldn't quiet it. It became more independent - and by extension more dangerous - on its own. When your negative felt like it was a being of its own you ran the risk of a permanent takeover. You'd still be there, conscious, watching as your negative wreaked havoc on your body and other people, but you wouldn't be able to stop it. No amount of time, therapy or medication could change that. 

They called him 'quiet Tyler'. 

He spoke very little, and to very few people. He was kind and cared about other people, but mostly just kept to himself. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you'd catch him smiling very softly to himself, or see him looking more stony-faced than usual.

He'd been in this control centre for 17 months. That was 73 weeks; 517 days; 744601 minutes, all holed up in a CCCN (Centre for the Control and Containment of Negatives). That was, by all accounts, basically unheard of. He checked himself in, and nobody knew why.

People speculated, though, because people came in and out a lot - people felt safer, people moved to higher security centres, people went into containment and didn't come out. So, when someone stuck around as long as Tyler had, people speculated. 

People thought he was avoiding a jail sentence, but he was way too gentle for that. People thought he'd murdered people, but the thought of blood made him woozy. 

They called him 'quiet Tyler', but the truth was he was talking all the time, just not to other people.

Tyler had been conversing with his own negative for over 13 years. It was accidental the first time and he'd never stopped since. He didn't remember the first conversation he'd had with it, he just remembered one day not talking to it and then having it be the only communication he got from anyone. His negative urged him to cut off contact with people, to become quiet and reserved. He came back after a summer break and he was entirely different. 

He didn't listen to its urges for him to hurt himself or other people; he didn't listen to its wishes for destruction. But he talked to it, and until he woke up without hearing its voice in his head he wasn't leaving this centre.

More than once, when he'd been doing the things he did with Ethan - the things they knew they shouldn't do: the cuddles and the holding hands under tables and the forehead kisses - he'd heard it taunting him, mocking him, spitting slurs into the back of his mind.

They called him 'quiet Tyler'. 

He wished he was quiet.


	10. Shaky Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short short short, im not even sorry im tired and i just started school

Mark watched his hands shake.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

He knew there were a million other reasons this could be happening, but his brain would only supply one. 

He wasn't having a takeover, he couldn't be. 

But was he warm? He couldn't be. No, he wasn't, it was okay. Wasn't it? He wasn't warm, was he? Was he warm?

He'd locked himself in the bathroom again, and it was painfully reminiscent of his first day here. he looked at himself; cheeks pale, eyes missing their usual brightness. This wasn't happening. No way.

If he talked to himself he'd sound crazy. Jack would definitely hear him. 

A flood of heat came over him.

Fuck, he was having a takeover.

* * *

 

With a panic rising in his chest, Mark flung open the door. Jack stood up instantly, concern on his face. He stood in front of Mark and held out a hand, stopping him.

"Woah, woah, woah, buddy, calm down."

"No, I can't, I'm going to-"

Before Mark could get another word in edgeways, Jack had a hand against his forehead. His other hand reached for one of Mark's, lifting it to look at its movement. Seconds dragged by silently. Both of Jack's hands dropped.

"Sit down," he urged, and Mark followed his instruction reluctantly. Jack sat beside him, resting a hand between Mark's shoulder blades.

There was quiet. 

"You're not having a takeover, you're having some sort of anxiety attack. You need to calm down." Now Jack's Irish twang was comforting, and Mark closed his eyes and let his voice wash over him like a tide on hot sand. Mark leant forward until his elbows were on his knees and his head was in his hand. Jack's hand still rested on his back, the thumb rubbing a calming circle."Take a deep breath." 

"Take a deep breath."

Mark did so.

"You're not having a takeover."

He just nodded.

"Say it."

"I'm not having a takeover."

"You're trembling."

A beat.

"Cold."

"See?" Jack's hand slipped from his back, and was soon being replaced by a blanket. Mark smiled a little. 

"Thank you."

He didn't sit up; he was still trembling

There was silence for a long, long time. Jack was conflicted about it for a moment, but eventually settled an arm around Mark's shoulders.

Mark tensed, but then relaxed, and leant into the hold.

That night as he fell asleep, he could hear Jack muttering to his book. He wasn't upset about it; he didn't expect Jack to stop doing what he was doing because Mark wanted to go to bed early.

"You'll get yourself killed," he whispered, and Mark smiled sleepily. 

Nah, he'd be okay.


	11. This Way Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys still into this? should i keep it going?

Hands still unsteady from the previous night's not-really-takeover, Mark spooned sugar into a cup. Two for Jack, one for him. It was too early to be up, really, but Jack woke up every day at the ass crack of dawn and Mark happened to be up earlier than usual. So, here he was, making coffee and trying to remember if Jack really wanted two sugars or not.

So far it was going great. 

He couldn't remember much from the evening, just that he'd overreacted and thought he was having a takeover when he wasn't. He remembered Jack being nice about it though, calming him down and giving him a blanket when really he could've just left Mark to flail and figure it out himself. 

The one on the left had two sugars, right? And the one with two sugars was Jack's. Mark had to be careful not to spill as he took both cups to where Jack was sitting in the little lounge area. Mark had sat there once, in a chair in the corner, but it had been loud and he'd needed to think, so he'd gone upstairs and not really came in here since. It was quiet now, though, at seven thirty am, when everyone else was asleep. 

The cup with two sugars went down first, and Jack eyed it warily. 

"Two sugars," Mark offered, nodding to the mug as he set the other one down and sat. Jack smiled brightly at him, because all Jack's smiles were, and took the cup in both hands.

"Thanks, man." He paused, then took a long sip, closing his eyes and holding the cup close to his face for a moment. Centre coffee wasn't the best, but it beat gas station coffee or hotel coffee. Mark had made it well - if that was possible considering it was just instant coffee, milk, and sugar. "I love coffee."

Mark smiled softly, taking a sip of his own drink. To him, it wasn't great. Coffee wasn't his lifeblood, he could certainly live without it, but it wasn't bad. This wasn't great coffee. "This is okay coffee."

Jack shrugged, "I like it. You made it nice."

The hint of a blush threatened to appear, and Mark told himself it was the hot drink. 

"Thanks, dude."

* * *

 

The red was fading. 

Mark ran a hand through his hair: definitely starting to fade, roots starting to come in. He couldn't say he hated the idea of having his natural hair again, he'd just had this colour for a while and it seemed like losing an old friend. All things must come to an end, though, and he knew that. 

Jack's hair was only recently dyed, it seemed. The green was bright, no brown peeking through the bottom at all. It suited him well. Mark wanted to touch it sometimes. He'd catch himself wanting to push his hands into it and stroke through it, wanting to card his fingers through it and feel the way it curled. And then he'd have to remind himself, _dude, that's gay. You're not gay, dude, stop that._

People were starting to hustle: it must be nearly therapy time. Mark had grown to like therapy: it wasn't at all what he'd expected. Most of the time it was just talking about stupid things like cats in teacups or Paris Hilton, maybe with a few minutes of negative chit-chat here and there. He wasn't sure that was its intended purpose, but it made everyone become closer and trust each other more. Jack sat across from him most days, though sometimes he'd sink into the chair beside Ethan and they'd chat across each other in a line. 

Ethan didn't seem to be doing too great for himself, but he insisted he was alright, so Mark didn't push it any further. 

Today, Jack sat across from him, shining on the other side of the circle. Twice, Mark found himself looking at Jack's hair. 

_Gay, bro, gay._

* * *

They didn't have a dimmer switch before, did they?

No way had they had a dimmer switch all this time and Mark hadn't noticed. Not a chance in hell.

"All the rooms have them," Jack explained, "Dim lights can help prevent takeovers." 

Mark noted that he'd fulfilled his learning quota for the day: something new - learned. 

"So why have we never had the lights any lower than this before?"

Jack just shrugged. "No point. We've just been using lamps. I like the dim lights, it's romantic in here now."

They both laughed. Mark's laughter more forced and tense, but still part genuine. He'd already convinced himself he'd just had a bad day and he was still shaken up from last night, nothing more.

Jack had put on a movie on the very small TV in their room, something else Mark hadn't paid much attention to since he got here. They sat together and chatted, and Mark had to keep pulling his eyes away from Jack's hair, and his eyes and his mouth and-

_Fuck, man, what's going on here? Chill out._

There came a point where the characters on screen were just having a flat-out makeout session, and Mark wondered about Jack's taste in film. He shot the other man a look, and Jack rushed to defend himself. 

"I thought it looked cool from the title, I'd never seen it before! I didn't sign up for a twelve-minute mouth-fuck!"

Mark laughed, actually laughed this time, doubling over slightly. "Well dang, there go my plans for the night!"

Once both of them had stopped laughing, there was silence. Mark's temple was resting on Jack's shoulder, and Jesus, the man was pointy. But somehow it was pleasant, even though it hurt little. Mark didn't want to move. 

Someone shot something on the screen, which Mark thought was a bit sudden. Jack jumped, startled by it.

Mark felt bad for chuckling and sat up, looking at the side of Jack's head. 

But then he turned and they were facing each other, and oh god Mark was looking at Jack's mouth again. Oh god, Mark, stop looking at him like that. 

Maybe he'd imagined it, but Jack leaned in a little bit, then the next thing Mark knew he was kissing him. He was  _kissing Jack_ on his  _stupid fucking perfect mouth._

He didn't even have time to register deciding to do it, he was just kissing him. 

Time slowed. Years passed. Mark pulled away.

And then what he'd done hit him like a train. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rest assured this will not go without a whole lot of regret


	12. Just Listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wwwwelcome back  
> i know u all missed me sooooo much -.-  
> this is a terrible chapter just a forewarning

Why the fuck had he just done that?

That was possibly the worst decision he could've made.  _Why_ had he done that? 

God, he was stupid. He was so, so stupid!

He had to move. He had to get out of here and run away and move to Iowa and never come back.

Mark stood up to bolt for the door, probably hide in Ethan and Tyler's room until he knew Jack was asleep, but Jack's hand caught his wrist.

Time slowed. What was happening?

Mark stammered to explain himself, panic rising in his chest. He could feel his face burning: his ears turning red and his cheeks flushing hotly. 

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened there, I just- It was like someone else had control of my brain- I'm  _so_ sorry-"

Jack let go of his wrist slowly, expressionless. Mark struggled to read him; he couldn't tell if he was going to be punched n the face or not.

And then the unthinkable happened - Jack threw his arms around Mark's shoulders and- was he crying? No way was he crying. Mark returned the slightly awkward hug, unsure of what to say. He whispered an apology. Jack shook his head.

He straightened, coughing a couple of times and wiping viciously at his eyes. "You don't have to be sorry."

"I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm not complaining."

Mark gave him a pointed look and he rolled his eyes, pawing at them again. "Not the point."

There was silence.

"Am I really that bad of a kisser?"

Jack offered an obviously forced smile and sniffled, sitting back down. "No. I just- I'm not good at love. I thought I was, but," he paused, obviously fighting for composure. "Now I'm here."

Mark connected the dots and decided not to ask questions. He sat beside Jack and offered an open arm, which the other man hesitated before leaning into.

"I'm kinda glad you did that, though."

"You are?"

" _I_ wasn't about to kiss _you_."

* * *

They finished the movie, which they both concluded was terrible.

Mark found himself half-sat half-laid down, face still warm and blushing and mind racing with questions he didn't dare voice. What the actual fuck was happening? This had to be a dream, didn't it? Jack leant on him heavily, mind also moving a mile a minute. He had questions and he had wants and he had fear and he didn't dare speak a word of it. 

Everything was confusing and painful. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a crap chapter wowowowow   
> ive decided on an ending yall,it's gonna be an angsty one!  
> if you picked up what i put down in this chapter (it was very subtle dont worry if you didnt catch it) i applaud you.


	13. Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA im posting another fic tomorrow stay tuuuned   
> hint: its about everyone's fave squad, the au that everyone's already done, the COOL PATROL yeeeee im basic

Mark frowned. His red hair was fading fast, being replaced by his natural blacky-brown. He mussed the wet strands with his fingers, thinking. He'd miss the red, but having his natural colour would be a welcomed change. He'd been cycling between dyes for months now, it had been a long time since he'd actually seen his natural hair.

He splashed cool water from the sink over his face, thankful for the wakeup call the cold gave him. Once he'd dried his face, he unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, dropping his towel into the pile of dirty laundry that was growing by their door. 

"I'm out," he murmured in Jack's direction, pulling off the shirt he'd slept in and relishing in the way the cool air hit his skin, warmed by the shower water. He changed quickly, pushing on his glasses from his bedside table. The bathroom door closed and locked, and not soon after water started running. Mark looked out of the window. Below them, Ethan walked across the long and stretching lawn, blue hair dancing in the wind. 

Since the night that they'd kissed, things had been a little different. Many times, Mark had wanted to do it again, but never had. Once, Jack had reached for his hand in therapy and held it. Neither of them had wanted to let go. Neither of them was sure what their relationship was, but they sort of muddled through and didn't dare ask.

Until, that is, that night. 

Jack had shaken Mark awake, and the red-haired man had grunted as he turned over. 

"Yeah?"

Jack hesitated, fidgeting. "I had a nightmare," he murmured, voice small. "I was wondering if we could sit up for a while?"

Mark usually would've cursed him out, but this was Jack, so he nodded. Jack's fragile state reminded him of his own when he'd first arrived here. 

So he pulled back the blanket, and after a second, Jack crawled under. Mark wrapped an arm around his shoulders, kissing his temple sleepily and laying down, pulling Jack's shoulder down as well. There were a solid few seconds where they just laid together, but then Mark wrapped his arms around Jack's slender frame and pulled him closer. 

Jack was a tense little ball of fear, and Mark did his best to hold him tightly and close, like a mother holding her child. 

"Do you need to talk about it?"

Jack shook his head instantly.

"Is there anythin' you do need?"

A pause.

"Just- hold me?"

And so Mark did just that.


	14. Loveseat

For once it wasn't bitingly cold. Jack had taken Mark's hand and practically dragged him outside, letting go of him the second they stepped onto the ornate lawn.

Mark remembered looking at the gardens a few times, but never going into them. He watched as Jack ran to the very edge of the lawn where a small group of people were sitting. Mark recognised Ethan among them, but no Tyler. He made a mental note to check on his gentle giant friend later. Jack laughed, the noise distinct and heartwarming, then turned and ran back to Mark's side. 

"Where's Tyler?" Mark asked, and Jack paused. 

"He got sent to containment out of group. Good thing, too, he's been functional for weeks now."

Mark took a second to process all that in his head. "He's been what? And group?"

Jack nodded his head in the direction of a small picnic-style table. "Let's walk and talk, yeah?" They walked, getting just past Ethan's group before Mark's hand brushed against Jack's and twitched. In a feat of 'fuck it' mentality, he reached out and grabbed Jack's hand. Their fingers fit together almost naturally, and Jack turned to smile at him briefly before he started talking again.

"When you've been here as long as me or Tyler have, they get worried. So there's a group of about twelve of us, we meet every morning before people wake up. It's like therapy, but we talk a lot about actual negative stuff, and there's a lot of staff there. People get sent to containment, they get their placements changed - it's a centre transfer waiting to happen. It's helpful though. You learn how to stop the little buggers."

Mark nodded in understanding, noticing how near they were to the table and releasing Jack's hand so they could sit. Jack didn't sit on the chair, instead hopping up onto the table itself. At a loss for how to sit facing him, Mark just sat on the floor. Jack's smile didn't go unnoticed.

"So what does functional mean?"

"Having a takeover but not knowing it, or passing it off really well, so people think you're normal." 

Mark nodded again, nibbling on the inside of his lip. "Right. Like you were."

"Like I was."

There was quiet. It was painful.

"What are we?" Jack asked, sudden and out of the blue. Mark was shocked by the question, and he stumbled. 

"Humans?"

"No- but- what are  _we?_ What is this?"

Mark floundered. "I- um- I don't know."

"You kissed me, and you held my hand just then -  what is this?"

More painful silence. Mark formulated his words carefully.

"What do you want it to be?"

Jack got down from the table and joined Mark on the floor. He was still and quiet for a very long time.

Centre friendships always ended in disaster. Centre relationships were a death sentence.

But Jack didn't care. The way he saw it, he wasn't ever getting rid of his negative and his takeovers were awful - he could be stuck here forever. Fuck it if he got his heart broken, he'd goddamn live.

Slowly, he leaned over and pressed the smallest of kisses to the spot where Mark's neck met his jaw. A happy, warm feeling spread through the redhead's chest.

"This is an invitation for heartbreak," Jack murmured. Mark shrugged.

"Character building."

There was quiet.

"What are we?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

A beat. Jack really hoped he'd get his desired reaction.

"Together."

That was open and ambiguous enough, right? It wasn't like he'd said 'boyfriends' or anything, even though he kind of wanted to.

"Together together?"

"If you want that."

"Then together together it is."

All aboard the slow-driving heartbreak train.

Jack giggled softly. "Boyfriends," He mimicked a child, staging giggles and hiding his face. He'd have time to regret saying that later.

Mark put on a voice. "Boyfrands! Yas!" 

They both burst into fits of stupid giggles, knowing they'd lie awake that night regretting saying such stupid things and being so stupid.

As Jack lay up studying the ceiling, Mark faced the wall with a little smile.

He'd never had a boyfriend before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys actually enjoying this? i feel like nobody's into it anymore. i might stop writing it, let me know


	15. Crazy in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pay attention to what mark's saying, there's a message hidden in his speech.

Mark woke with a start to the sound of the door opening. He sat bolt upright, expecting an intruder. He squinted in the half-light. Only Jack.

"H-Hey."

"Mornin', Mark. Did I wake you up comin' in?"

Mark shook his head. "I don't think so, you're fine." He offered a smile. "How was group?"

Jack perched on the side of Mark's bed, shrugging. "It was just group."

"Tyler still not there?"

"Nope. I don't know where he's at."

Mark shuddered, sitting up against his pillows and pushing his comforter down. He noticed his other blanket had fallen to the ground in the night. "E-Ethan must be taking it hard, right?"

"Yeah, he's not doing great."

"Poor thing. That must be horrible for him."

Jack nodded morosely. "Yeah. We should try give him a pick-me-up today - do something nice."

"Smart plan." Mark paused, yawning blearily. He rubbed his dark eyes and ran a hand through his hair, still obviously recovering from the sudden wake-up call. "I- uh- I wouldn't make it too obvious, what we s-said yesterday, y'know?"

"Course, course. After dinner, we should play cards with him or something. He has some weird little board games, they're really cool."

Mark smiled softly, chuckling. "Man, that'd be a-amazing. Games with you guys, comfy pants, a big ol' mug of l-leaf water: I'm dying just thinking about it." He flung himself back against the pillows dramatically, closing his eyes and letting his tongue loll out of his mouth.

Jack laughed, shoving his shoulder softly. "Geddup, you big goof!"

Mark stayed still, opening one gleaming eye and fighting a smile.

Jack thought for a second, before prying the covers up and slotting himself beside Mark on the small mattress, curling softly into his side. "Oh! My love hath died! Whatever shall I do? I shall be forced to marry an English maiden and tend cattle for the rest of my days!"

Mark burst into giggles, looking at Jack through laughter-teary eyes. "Tend  _cattle_ for the r-rest of your days? How old e-even are you, 100?"

Jack nodded seriously. "Yes."

That only served to make Mark laugh harder, coughing through the giggles. "I'm down with that. I can get down and dirty with a-a hundred-year-old guy."

Jack shoved his shoulder softly, and Mark lifted his arm to drape around Jack's shoulders. 

"You love me," the redhead murmured. Jack snuggled into his hold. 

"Fuck off."

* * *

 

"Mark, you're cheating!" Jack exclaimed, folding his arms. Ethan nodded. Mark just shrugged.

"What can I say, d-dude, I'm the best."

"No," Jack deadpanned, "You're cheating."

"Or y-you just suck."

Ethan faked an offended gasp, folding his arms and looking away. Mark set a hand on his arm, pouting. "Don't throw a tantrum, Eth. We both know Jack is the one who really sucks." He stage-whispered, and Ethan hesitated before turning to him and nodding. Jack looked offended.

"C'mon, Jackaboy, you suck and we all know it."

"I might suck but you two both swallow."

Silence.

"Boo!" Ethan called, picked up the deck of cards, and started to reshuffle them.

* * *

 

"Remind me again, Jack, h-how many games you just lost to me?"

Jack grumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that? I didn't hear you, e-even with my superior winner ears."

"Seven, okay! Seven, Jaysus."

Mark chuckled, squeezing Jack's hand in his own. Jack looked at him fondly, squeezing back. 

"R-really? I thought it was eight."

"No," Jack gave him a look, "It was seven."

Mark grinned, "I'm pretty sure it was eight."

"It was  _not_!" 

"Jack, I'm positive it was eight."

Jack just rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man." He squeezed Mark's hand again. There was a long stretch where neither of them talked, just sat in each other's company and felt nice.

"It was really eight though-"

" _Fuck you!"_

Mark giggled, looking at Jack with a stupid grin. "Hey, Jack, look at me, man."

He did so reluctantly.

Mark pressed a soft kiss to the end of Jack's nose.

"It was seven," Jack whispered, smiling.

"Nah," Mark murmured, "It was e-eight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you were paying attention


	16. Sweet Reassurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yESSS this is a day late, slap my wrist. I have the entirety of this story planned out to the end, so look forward to that. It'll finish on November 3rd, and update every tuedsay and friday from here forward. enjoy!  
> (I'm really glad yall like this so much, your comments are all that keep me writing sometimes lmao)

Jack noticed. 

Of course he noticed, how could he  _not_ notice? It was painful how obvious it was. 

He noticed everything. He knew. He'd had enough takeovers and watched his friends walk around functional enough times to know when someone was bluffing. And Mark was. Not only that, but he'd been functional for a long ass time, because his negative was losing composure. It was getting impatient. 

He reasoned that Mark hadn't been under his negative's control this whole time, because negatives didn't check themselves into control centres. Negatives weren't nice. Negatives didn't have any sense of sympathy, they didn't want anything other than to hurt and destroy. They thrived on  _negativity_ , it was self-explanatory. 

Maybe it was recent. Maybe he just had a really impatient negative. Maybe Jack hadn't fallen for a functional man.

He'd once been told that people with especially active and dangerous negatives surrounded themselves with dangerous people. Was Mark dangerous?

He was gentle, he was kind and compassionate. He only killed his dog, for God's sake.

Jack didn't know what to think.

* * *

 

"Kill him!" Ethan yelled before Jack even opened the door. 

"Can I come in?"

A pause. The door swung open. Ethan stood before him, blue hair messy and face flushed red. 

"Kill him, dude."

Jack shook his head minutely. Ethan sensed he wasn't in a joking mood and let him in.

They sat on the floor. Jack watched his hands shake. 

"I just don't know what to do."

"Turn him in," Ethan urged, and for the fifth time, Jack shook his head. 

"I have no proof. I'm more likely to get contained than he is that way."

Ethan paused. "But you noticed it. Why couldn't they?"

"He's too fucking good at hiding it! Didn't you notice him stuttering the other day?"

Ethan shook his head slightly, confused.

Jack just looked back at him, horrified.

 

 


	17. Sea of Self Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're on the home stretch people!   
> 10 chapters left!

Jack woke up before the sun rose. He stepped a chilly foot onto the floor and instantly brought to life the screech of a floorboard. He winced.

Mark shifted in his sleep. Jack hesitated before padding to the bathroom.

When he came out again, Mark was laid facing the bathroom door. His sleepy eyes smiled at Jack as he shuffled out, opening an arm slowly.

Jack nestled between Mark's arms, snuggling into his chest and pressing his cold toes against the redhead's ankles. Mark chuckled, jerking his feet away. "That's not nice."

"You're like a space heater," Jack defended quietly, closing his eyes and resting his head on Mark's shoulder. The strong arms wrapped slightly tighter around him, like a constrictor feeling its prey; measuring just the right amount of force to use to kill it.

There was comfortable silence for a long time. Jack pondered: maybe he'd been making things up earlier. With the stutter, and all those other signs of Mark's 'takeover'. Maybe Jack was just paranoid. Mark had barely shown symptoms; he'd stuttered, sure, but maybe he hadn't. Maybe Jack was imagining things.  And what? He was warm just now, but he'd been under the covers all night. The red was growing out of his hair, but the green was growing out of Jack's. 

What an idiot he had been. 

W.A.T.C.H: warmth, appearance, twitch, communication, heart.

Two of those were missing, anyway. 

And yes, while people having takeovers didn't always show all five symptoms, heart was often the first to cave, due to the negative's desperation for destruction.

Mark wasn't having a takeover. If anything, he was sick.  

Jack closed his eyes, contented, and sank further into the hold. 

When he opened them again it was morning. Mark snored softly above him, still holding Jack as tight as ever.

Maybe, Jack thought, this won't crash and burn. He felt so content and at peace in that moment that all thoughts of negatives or heartbreak or takeover symptoms were pushed aside in favour of being right here, right now, on this very day, in Mark's arms.

In that moment that was all that mattered. 

Not negatives, not people, not anything.

Just him and Mark.


	18. He

Jack sighed. The faint smell of coffee wafted from the table. He did not open his eyes.

He had been thinking for a very long time. 

Everything had crossed his mind. Every possible theory, every explanation, every reason this could be happening.

He still wasn't sure.

A hand threaded through his hair and he smiled softly, humming a little to acknowledge Mark's gesture.

Neither of them spoke as Mark sat down and Jack went as if on autopilot to lay his head on the other's shoulder. Mark's fingers carded gently through Jack's hair. 

There was a long moment of silence. Jack wanted to bring up his thoughts.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, so did Mark.

"So do you wanna play that new game with me and Eth tonight? The one with the cards and the zombies?"

Jack just nodded, spark of courage lost. 

There was another stretch of sandpapery silence.

"Something's wrong."

Jack's eyes flew open. "No."

"If you want to talk about it I'm right here."

Quiet.

On the ceiling, something moved.

Jack cried out and jumped back.

It was a spider, an absolutely huge one at that, dangling from a thread, about six feet above the floor. 

Jack moved off the couch and slithered away, glaring at the spider from four feet away. 

Mark looked at it, and for a moment so brief Jack wasn't sure if he'd imagined it, his eyes glimmered. 

"You scared?" the redhead chuckled, and Jack rolled his eyes, smiling and nodding. "I'll get rid of it."

"Thank you," Jack looked away, not wanting to stare at the spider anymore.

Mark stood up, and Jack assumed he was going to grab a cup or something to catch it in.

Then there was the harsh  _whack!_ of a rolled up magazine, a beat of silence, and a barely audible chuckle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shh its short


	19. Masochism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mildly sexual content ahead be very warned (nothing too explicit you can prob read this with your mum around)

Jack breathed in shakily.

Mark's lips lifted from his neck and the dark eyes looked at him carefully, asking a question. Jack gave the answer by threading his hand into Mark's dull red hair and pushing his head back down a little. The gentle kisses against his throat and collarbones resumed.

This wasn't allowed; not a chance in hell. But it was 1:30 am. Nobody would know or even care. They just had to be quiet.

Sharp teeth dug into his collarbone. Jack tried and failed to stifle a moan. He felt Mark smile against his skin. 

They'd just been laying together; Mark's steady hand in Jack's hair, conversation flowing, kisses falling freely. Then lips had been attached to pale skin; bruises had started to form on exposed necks. 

Very soon, there was a thud as a shirt hit the floor. It was joined, steadily, by other items of clothing; jeans, socks, underwear.

Hands strayed over skin. Eyes dragged over contours. Lips grazed scars. Noses bumped in the middle of a kiss.

Jack bit his lip as he moved slowly, feeling Mark's steady hands grip his hips a little tighter. He hunched forward so his hot forehead rested on the other's bare shoulder. Soft creaks of the bed frame and quick, panting breaths filled the nighttime silence. Bliss sparked and crackled like a fire at the back of Jack's neck. He could feel his blush extending down past his cheeks, hands exploring the seemingly flawless planes of Mark's back. His lover's hands mirrored his own, only pausing at the small of his back and digging the blunt nails into the skin.

Jack shifted. Mark let up his hold a little. The Irishman's lips grazed Mark's ear as he whispered, "Don't stop."

And so he didn't. He scratched down the other's back; he bit at his pale neck and prominent collarbones, determined to bruise. The pain blossomed under his skin like a flame touched to paper. It only spurred him on.

There was no chance for warning as they neared the edge; euphoria had muted their voices. They each read the other's signs; the quickened movements, rapid breath, blown-out pupils. Their climaxes were almost simultaneous, neither of them caring about their vows to be quiet so as not to be found out. 

Afterwards, it was still for a minute; quiet. Jack caught his breath and excused himself instantly, rushing to the bathroom. Mark just sat there for a moment, catching his breath and overthinking. He dispelled all his thoughts when Jack emerged from the bathroom, the front of his hair wet and his facial hair glistening in the dark with not-quite-dried-off water droplets. Mark stood quickly and exchanged places with him, washing his own face and taking yet another moment. The harsh, blue-white lights of the bathroom weren't so bad this time.

They fell asleep curled against each other, heartbeats in sync.

* * *

 Mark was crying.

He stared out of the window, crying and screaming, begging to be let out. But his pleas were ignored.

He was banging on the glass as people walked by, unaware he was trapped inside. He shouted until his throat was raw, cried until he had no tears left.

But nobody came.

 


	20. Stone-Faced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i know i didn't update on time, i'm really sorry!!!

Jack could hear Ethan's scream from a floor up. He startled, anxiety settling in his stomach. 

It seemed both him and Mark had the same idea; they had to go and help their friend. They rushed to the door, tripping over each other in their haste to get down the flight of stairs to Ethan.

When they got to the door of the younger man's room, it was slightly ajar. Jack could hear soft crying coming from inside. He shot a worried look at Mark, who reached for his hand and squeezed it softly. Jack paused for a moment, before knocking on the door.

Immediately, the crying stopped. 

There was a still moment.

Then Tyler came to the door. 

For a moment, Jack was confused, but he broke into a smile almost instantly.

"Tyler!" He exclaimed, and the taller man nodded, smiling slightly. 

"That would be me."

"Is everything okay?" Mark cut in, still obviously concerned. 

"Yeah, it's all good. You, uh, you probably heard Ethan. He was excited."

As if on cue, Ethan's fuzzy blue head popped up behind Tyler's shoulder. 

"Hey, Eth," Jack greeted around Tyler's arm, and the blue-haired boy piped up.

"Hi Jack!" There was a pause. "You guys should come play a game in here!"

* * *

 

Mark noticed Ethan's red eyes and gave Tyler a worried look. The expression he got in return told him not to ask.

They set up a card game on the floor that involved zombies of some description, and Ethan got ready to beat everyone else's ass.

"So, Ty..." Jack started, unsure of how to phrase it lightly. "You okay?"

Tyler nodded, shrugging one shoulder and playing his turn. "Yeah. Takeovers are takeovers, y'know?"

"You don't seem hurt or anything, that's pretty good." Jack tried, but was met with another shrug and seemingly disinterested reply. 

"I think my negative is smart enough to know by now that if it destroys me, it destroys itself.It's not gentle, don't get me wrong; I'm lucky to still even be here. They said they wanted to transfer me to somewhere else."

Ethan seemed to bristle at that, and Mark noticed, turning to Tyler and asking, "Transfer?"

Tyler nodded, looking up from his cards for the first time since the game had started. "If your negative's really dangerous and your takeovers are bad - if you're functional for a long, long time and nobody sees, then you just go batshit insane, then they transfer you. It's horrible; you get handcuffed when they take you and then isolated once they've taken them off, and apparently, there's some sort of drug you get put on that weakens your negative, but it turns you into a total zombie."

There was a long pause. Ethan coughed wetly, as if he was going to vomit. Tyler reached out to him but he shied away.  

"But none of us are like that, are we?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 chapters left!


	21. HOLD ON

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE'S A NEW WORK IN THIS AU!  
> You should all go read paroxysm, an utterly amazing take on this universe by oh_DAMNeron  
> Enjoy!

People flitted anxiously from hallway to hallway. There were drawing pins on every floor. A delivery man flirted with the receptionist. 

That could only mean one thing: there was a batch of new posters.

New posters meant new research. New research meant people not trusting each other for a few days.

Jack studied one carefully. 

' _Functional negatives are people who can feign normality while having a takeover. While they may show the **WATCH** symptoms, some negatives are good at concealing them. If a person is functional for too long, they will become dangerous. If you or a loved one experiences two or more of these at a time, you may be in the throes of a takeover and risk becoming functional. Remember, always be on the **WATCH,** and **HOLD ON**._

_**H: Headaches**. Headaches, especially migraines, are often the first sign of a takeover. Not all headaches mean takeovers, though, and often takeover headaches can feel different to regular ones. A person may also experience shooting pains in two or three personally specific locations such as the throat, sinuses, or hands.  _

_**O: Oral fixation.** An odd desire to put things in the mouth, such as pens or the wrong ends of utensils. Some negatives have slurred speech, a characteristic which falls under the communication sector of the WATCH acronym. To hide this, many negatives will idly chew or suck objects they have in their hands. You may also find that negatives will chew gum or suck mints more often than their regular counterparts, though some scientists suspect that this is because mint is a way to cause mild distress to the host form. (70% of functional negatives whose hosts didn't like mint chewed gum or sucked mints more than negatives whose hosts did not min mint.)_

_**L: Loss of Vision.** Momentary loss of vision is common just as a negative takes over. It is suspected that this is because of one part of the brain shutting down, much like changing a projector slide. _

_**D: Dangerous situations.** Negatives can take over as a sort of defence mechanism. As negatives are ruthless and don't care about causing harm, a person may experience a takeover in a situation where they feel particularly threatened. Their negative will then fight off their attacker and show no mercy, not letting their host's sense of morality get in the way. _

_**O: Omission of words/sounds.** This may be confused for communication. Lots of negatives miss out articles or pronouns when speaking. Some may also have a lisp, or drop their hard T sounds. _

_**N: Nausea/vomiting.** When a person has a takeover, they often feel horribly sick and will vomit two to three times. This is uncontrollable and happens to almost everybody. You may continue to feel sick two to four days after the takeover, but this is normal._

_Please note that the **WATCH** symptoms are not to be confused with the **HOLD ON** symptoms. **WATCH** symptoms are experienced in the days leading up to the takeover, whereas **HOLD ON** symptoms are experienced in the moment of takeover. If you are experiencing **HOLD ON** symptoms, but have not been experiencing **WATCH** symptoms, consult your doctor. _

**_Always stay on the WATCH, and always HOLD ON.'_ **

He decided not to think about it too much, and didn't really get a chance to, because the next thing he knew Mark had a hold of his hand and was whisking him off to dinner.

* * *

 

That was it. 

That was the final straw. 

Jack refused to believe it anymore. Mark was functional, and he was functioning almost too well. 

It was just one little thing that tripped him up. His negative had done good, it really had, but it had forgotten something. 

Mark wore glasses. 

Everything had been right until that very moment. Every detail; even the hair was growing out at a normal rate. But Mark wore glasses. 

There they lay, untouched on the bedside table. Jack knew there was a problem. Mark wore glasses. 

That counted, didn't it? He could put that under the appearance category. 

He had to go and tell somebody, because if he didn't, someone was going to get hurt. 

He checked. Mark was sleeping soundly. Jack had to tell someone.

 _But if you do that,_ a voice taunted somewhere from the back of his mind,  _you two won't be happy._

Jack ignored it. He got up and left the room as quietly as possible, then once he was sure the door was closed, started to walk as quick as he could down the hallway.

Unbeknownst to him, though, the door did not close behind him, but rather, opened again before it could catch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i planned out the ending of this fic 3 different times so not even i know how its gonna end :)))))


	22. Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one again  
> some mild noncon in this chapter (nothing too graphic, just a kiss, but noncon nonetheless. reminder this is DARK, not mark in this ch.)

Jack ignored the way his breath caught in his throat, or the pull in his chest as he walked, like someone was trying to pull his heart out from the front.

He swallowed. 

His mouth was dry.

All too suddenly, there were footsteps behind him, and he didn't hear them until they were too close.

"I've been waiting a long time to see you again."

He stopped in his tracks. He had to remain calm; this thing could smell fear. His heart pounded in his ears, the pulling sensation in his chest becoming stronger. Anxiety curled its way around his stomach and squeezed, stealing his breath and making him nauseous. An odd electric energy radiated in the air.

"I've been pushed aside, replaced, mocked, and then he had the gall to take me out of the equation with you. No more."

The voice oozed calm, but Jack could feel the anger behind it as it ghosted against the back of his neck. Hot breath don his spine gave him goosebumps. Too hot. 

"I've been here for longer than you'd think. I've known you the whole time, you know. It seems we -" there was a long pause. Jack caught his breath. He closed his eyes, vision blurring with tears. This wasn't Mark, this wasn't Mark. "It seems," the voice continued, "we bring out the worst in each other quite nicely."

Jack held in a cough, the pull in his chest starting to ache. He struggled to breathe. What was this?

"He thought he had control over me. He was wrong."

For the first time, Jack spoke.

"You're a coward."

It seemed amused.

"Says the man who's struggling to breathe."

Jack drew in a shaky breath, swallowing nothing. He didn't respond. 

He could see the stairwell door, maybe only ten feet away. If he ran now he might just make it. If he could get downstairs there would be staff. It couldn't hurt him then.

There was a moment of stillness.

Then Jack ran.

And he was fast, oh yes, but Mark was faster, catching up to him and pinning him one-armed against the wall of the stairwell.

"What's wrong, Jackie? I thought you loved me?"

Jack struggled, but Mark was too strong, and before he knew it their lips were pressed together in an unwanted and unwelcomed kiss. When the negative before him pulled away Jack grimaced, kicking for its shins. 

"Come on, now, lover boy. We should get you back to bed before you cause too much trouble. And then I can tell you all the fun I've been having. Okay?"

Jack said nothing.


	23. Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sad that there's only 2 more chapters after this one! im gonna miss this story so much. It's been grand, guys. I'm excited to move further forward though, and next up comes a cool patrol fic ;)  
> VOMIT WARNING!!!

Jack should've screamed. He should've yelled, called out for help. But something stopped him, like an invisible hand over his mouth.

He must've only taken three steps into the room before Mark's strong hands were pushing him onto his bed. The dark silhouette of the other man loomed above him, and Jack felt the same pulling feeling in his chest as before, like someone was trying to pull his heart out through his ribs. Fear shot through him, making his hands unsteady. An uncomfortable, nervous sweat broke out on his warm forehead. 

It seemed like forever until Mark moved away, but Jack could still feel his eyes on him. He shuddered frighteningly hard, his whole body shivering in fear. His hands shook and jerked uncontrollably, and he shoved them under his head. 

Even though Mark hadn't said anything, it was clear he was meant to stay put. If the negative in the room with him was found out, it would be disastrous.

That pull again. Jack could swear he'd felt it before, but all the memories were clouded with pain and the taste of bile - he couldn't remember where it came from. 

He could hear Mark's bed shifting across the room and he cringed. Tears sprang suddenly to his eyes: he'd known that falling or the red-haired boy whose eyes sparkled and smile brightened a room was a bad idea. Even if he was perfect, it wasn't true. It might not have even been him. 

Something the monster had said was echoing in Jack's mind, but his voice was high, distorted. It sounded more like Jack's own than Mark's. 

' _It seems we bring out the worst in each other quite nicely.'_

He tried to will it away; he was familiar with the odd tone of voice, and it never brought good things with it. 

It was only after he dragged himself back to reality that he realised the twisting nausea in his stomach. He blamed it on the nervousness. 

Maybe this was all a bad dream. Maybe he'd wake up in Mark's arms and it'd all be okay and they'd go get coffee. 

The taste of Mark's mouth in his own was soon replaced by the bitter tang of bile. He was almost glad for it. 

It would've been okay if he hadn't gagged; he was actually going to vomit. That wasn't okay - he shot up and dashed quick as a bolt to the bathroom, locking the door before Mark could even react. He threw himself over the toilet bowl and gagged, feeling a disgusting heat wash over him as he spat up the bitter, half-digested remnants of his dinner. He shuddered, groaning as he sat back on his heels. It was just the nerves, he told himself, getting up slowly to wash out his mouth.

There were three curt knocks on the door.

"Jack? Are you okay?"

It was Mark's real voice. Jack hesitated. He felt the pull in his chest, stronger than ever, but it subsided quicker than usual. 

"Fine." was the short reply. 

"I'm right out here."

Jack took a moment to gather himself, sitting on the closed toilet. His throat burned, pain shooting through it like he'd been branded. He stood up, needing another drink, but figured he'd done it too fast, because he blacked out for a second. He took it steady toward the sink, leaning on it heavily as he drank.

When he was finally done he looked up at himself, staring back morosely into green, teary eyes. 

He checked his teeth; nothing worse than having vomit in your teeth. Nothing, just a sharp-toothed grimace staring back at him.

Jack dried his hands, took a moment to compose himself, then went to the door.

For some reason, he wasn't scared anymore. 

His hand twitched slightly.

He shoved it in his pocket.


	24. Plan II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost finished!!!  
> forgive me for not updating yesterday agh  
> this is short and bad btw yes ik

Jack twisted the door handle. Mark was glaring at him from across the room.

"What's your problem?" the Irishman spat. Mark stood up, bridling slightly. 

"Hey, be nice."

Jack rolled his eyes, backing against the wall and sliding down it till he was sat on the floor. His stomach still twisted with nausea, but he ignored it for now. 

Mark drew nearer, steps slow and deliberate. 

"I told you we brought out the worst in each other." He reached down and stroked Jack's hair softly.

"Don't touch me, you fuck."

Mark sighed, sitting beside him. Jack shifted away.

"I'm not a bad guy, Jack."

The tone of the negative's voice made him feel sick. Jack grimaced. "Yeah, and I'm a fuckin' shark with legs."

Mark was suddenly tense. "You're so distasteful. This is why you get found out every time."

Jack just looked at him, unsure of how to respond.

"Look," Mark said after a long time. "You and me could work together. We could work together and we could cause some havoc. But you need to stop being so abrasive."

Jack snorted. "Work together? What the fuck is wrong with you-"

"Just listen to me!" Mark raised his voice, eyes aflame. "I have a plan."


	25. Bravo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE END D':   
> im going to miss this story so so much!!! you guys have been so good at motivating me to continue: every single comment is a huge huge boost for me, i love seeing you guys enjoying this.  
> keep making stuff in this AU if the inspiration strikes! tag it with watchverse so we can find it  
> i WILL revisit this au SOON! but for now, my next project is a cool patrol fic. it will be uploaded NEXT TUESDAY, november 7th.  
> if you're reading this from the future, its PROBBLY ALREADY BEEN POSTED!  
> im so glad you guys loved this fic as much as i did. its been a long, wild ride, thank you guys so much <3  
> EDIT HALFWAY THROUGH THIS CHAPTER I GOT A TEXT SAYING MY BRITAINS GOT TALENT AUDITION IS ON SATURDAY IM SO FUCKED WISH ME LUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Jack's eyes glinted.

"What's this plan?"

Mark stood up, offering Jack a hand. He hesitated for a moment, still feeling sick. Before he could make a decision, Mark had taken his hand away. 

He paced in long, even strides up and down the room. 

"The others."

"Ethan and Tyler."

"Them. We ensure they both become functional, and we use them to our advantage. I've heard Tyler is dangerous."

Jack paused for a moment, leaning back against the wall and shutting his eyes. This always happened; negative sickness, they called it. When he looked again Mark was stood in front of him. 

"When?"

"Soon. We can start tomorrow."

"And- and what happens after?"

Mark shrugged. "We get out. If this Tyler is as dangerous as they say, we'll have no trouble getting out of here." 

Jack just nodded, closing his eyes against the wave of nausea. He willed it away, but it stuck in his stomach, making him gag on the taste of bile.

"So that's the plan? S-storm the-"

He cut himself off, covering his mouth with a hand. He scrambled to get up, but to no avail, and sprawled forward as he retched. Mark jumped back, grimacing down at him. Jack sighed shakily, not daring to open his eyes. He didn't need to look at yesterday's dinner again. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing up to get a cloth from the bathroom. 

Mark just looked at him.

* * *

 

Morning rolled around.

"We have to look convincing."

Jack stared at Mark's hand. "Do I have to?"

"They won't believe us otherwise."

He sighed. "Fine."

It was surprising how natural it felt to hold Mark's hand as they walked down the halls. They hoped to meet Ethan and Tyler before breakfast and start wearing away their defences early. The sooner they could get out of here, they decided, the better. 

It was Jack who first ran, literally, into one of them, just as they walked in to breakfast.

"Woah- oh, hi Jack!" 

He smiled, looking up to find Ethan beaming back at him. 

"Hey, Eth.  Come sit with us?"

Ethan nodded, blue mop of hair bouncing. "Sure thing, let me grab Tyler."

Jack took one look at the brute and knew he wouldn't have to do much. Tyler was unstable already. Jack reported this to Mark as they sat down, and the redhead smirked. 

Just talking would do it. Just being close to Tyler would push him over the edge. Mark watched him as they ate; he wasn't far off. 

Ethan would be tricker. Jack took care of him, though. 

He planted the thoughts in his head; he was ruthless and uncaring. But he was nice about it. 

As you do.

It took two days.

Mark could feel the anger bubbling under their skin. Just something small would set them off.

"Boo."

Ethan turned around and looked at him with shockingly bright blue eyes. "Boo?"

Mark smirked, turning away.

"Nevermind."

Tyler didn't need touching, they decided. He could handle himself.

* * *

 

The cold was biting against Jack's skin. He was walking in front, the rest of his friends trailing behind him. They'd gotten a good way out, now, and felt safe.

Nobody could get them here.

They walked in relative quiet, chatting amongst themselves. 

The stark contrast of the gunshot in the distance was terrifying. 

Almost immediately, they all stopped, looked at each other, and started to run.

Jack paid no mind to the rest of them, just running to save his own skin. He remembered, blurrily, running this way before, long ago.

He'd been caught then.

Not this time.

Behind him, shrieks of terror, and slowly the noise of footsteps on the ground quietened until it was just his. He stopped, gasping for breath and turning around.

He was alone.

He kept running.

* * *

 

Jack stared into the glass in front of him. It had been a long time since he'd even thought about the centre. 

He was bitter and cold, ow more than ever.

He'd made a deal with the negative; it could have half the control if it let him make the big decisions and it just  _left him alone_. 

It had upheld one side of the bargain; it still hounded him in his head until he was half mad. 

He rubbed his one green eye sleepily. He hadn't had more than 30 minutes sleep in days. 

The pull of the glass drew him back to reality. 

He frequented this bar; they had the cheapest whiskey. It burned as much going down as it did coming up. 

There was never anybody new here; just the neighbourhood alcoholics and Frank, the bartender.

Jack was so used to the routine of downing drink after drink that he barely noticed when the stranger, wearing a light pink shirt and blue jeans, sat at the bar beside him. Jack studied their fuzzy silhouette in the dim bar lights. They looked not at the bartender but at him, their warm brown eyes smiling. Jack was sure his own were wide and bloodshot.

They reached for his hand, and something made him let them take it.

Their voice was so familiar.

"Hi, Jackie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll miss ya, kid  
> bravo, sophie

**Author's Note:**

> p l e a s e comment, even if it's just a dick, i'll really appreciate it 8===D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Liberosis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906508) by [DoubleX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoubleX/pseuds/DoubleX)
  * [Paroxysm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390561) by [Oh_DAMNeron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_DAMNeron/pseuds/Oh_DAMNeron)
  * [Tyrenia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12846387) by [Fireworking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fireworking/pseuds/Fireworking)




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